


So Many People, All of Them I

by Sukila



Series: Hello Charlotte Week (Sept. 22 - 28) [5]
Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Game), Hello Charlotte (Video Games)
Genre: #hellocharlotteweek, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anri isn't mentioned in this one either rip, Child Neglect, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Genderfae Charles, Hello Charlotte Week - Day 5, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Destruction, Sharing a Body, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tulpamancy, Which is Scarlett being a jerk, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukila/pseuds/Sukila
Summary: He smiles at him-God, he can’t watch this-And promises to meet him again-Please, you don’t have to do this-And silence drowns out the world-There’s nothing after this, don’t you know that-?!And Vincent...lets go.Adrenaline surges in his veins as she puts them down and scrambles to grasp it once more, straining and feeling metal dig into their gut as she struggles to keep them there.“I’m sorry,” she’s crying- They’re crying, clinging with all their might, Vincent looks up at them, visibly shaken and eyes full of fear, “I wasn’t...supposed to ruin...the big moment-” She stops to pant heavily, “but… I never got to meet you…”





	So Many People, All of Them I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Listen I’m just a loser who wants them to be happy"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/418424) by Niquator. 



> DID Attempt:  
> Charles/Charlie - Host  
> Scarlett - Persecutor (Misguided Protector)/Introject (Former Tulpa)/Copy (Abuser) Type  
> Charlotte Eyler - Protector/Internal Self Helper (Pseudo Host, Manager of System)/Introject (Fictional Character) Type

Scarlett had always been a terrifying force of nature in his life, perhaps that was his fault, having manifested such a tulpa, but he’d prefer dumping the mess of a situation on his father’s decisions. He grows more and more convinced of that each time he sees his mother, tired and sad as she tells him he’s been a good girl. Blonde hair peeking out from where she’s hidden herself in solitude and insanity, but kind all the way through…

 

Scarlett didn’t bother him when he was with her, watching from the door with the same bitter grey eyes, almost as though she’s looking through them. He doesn’t know what to think when she’s so silent like that, he doesn’t know why he used to scream at her so obsessively, and he never knew what to do when she threatened him, now.

 

Truly, she was a wanted child in that situation, made to hurt him because its what he’d made her to be, but lacking a true malicious intent of her own… He’d seen her cry once, a vulnerability he hadn’t been aware he’d imagined for her before, water dripping down her face as she softly breathed and her face grew red.

 

He had been speechless, but she’d spoken so clearly despite being part of such a muffled mind.

 

“I miss Wonderland,” she said in a somber tone, sounding almost desperate as her head came out from behind her hands and she gave him such a look of mourning with a small, sad smile, “I loved the flowers there…”

 

_‘Should not give control to your tulpa for prolonged periods of time.’_

 

_‘Start the wonderland as a bonding activity.’_

 

_‘Using it to escape reality never fails to make reality seem worse, and may lead you down a path of paranoia and fear.’_

 

A field he’d made, white bells of petals that fluttered like butterflies in the wind, the sun beaming down from behind a layer of fluffy clouds to make a murky brightness. The grass so soft, perfectly textured with dryness and length so water didn’t cling.

 

_“Scarlett Eyler… You’re...my sister.” She looked at herself in a sort of curiosity, messing with the strands of curly red hair falling in front of her face. Her face was alight with adoration, and he told her to stop looking at him at like after a few minutes of discomfort._

 

_He’d grow to miss that odd attempt of a half-smile after so many serious looks as they grew, and miss the fidgeting to brush away stray hairs as they were tied up; she became less human, but that was what he’d influenced, hadn’t he?_

 

“I… We can…” He’d attempted, looking upon her sobbing with guilt and regret for someone he’d never imagined it’d go to.

 

She shook her head, moving to sit down against the wall of the hall; that was that and the moment was over as quick as it had begun.

 

Now she just got angry, a sort of harsh seriousness that created a stern environment surrounding the schedule he’d been given. It was exhausting, all encompassing, and completely without substance and any motivation besides fear on both their parts. But Scarlett was a tulpa gone wrong, something he’d created himself, albeit by complete accident.

 

Charlotte Wiltshire was also a creation, but certainly not one he’d meant to be inside his head. She was a perfect protagonist for a story, a fictional person with equally fictional goals and worlds to inhabit. Yet, somewhere along the line, when he was on the lowest dip on the road, there she was, albeit a bit different, more... _real,_ a voice in his mind to put Scarlett down as though she were a hungry dog biting into her shoulder.

 

At first, a part of him was afraid of her, of that girl who had jumped straight out of his drawings and into his life as it passed him by, little notes littering his wallspace she told him he’d written when he became concerned. They were notes on story details, certain dates marked with the letter C, and a sort of system of reminders he’s almost sure he didn’t make up himself.

 

“You’re just spotty,” she’d ‘tell’ him, making big gestures with their hands, covered by a big sweater from the bottom of his closet, “You’re not foggy, that’s me, but you’re just sorta missing a few pieces! Like a puzzle!”

 

“Isn’t that a bad thing…?” He’d think to her, mocking fidgets as she messed with his hair.

 

She smiles at the mirror, teasing the black strands into puffiness, “It just gives it more character! Besides, you can still see the picture, right?”

 

He didn’t know what to say to that, so it hung in the air, oppressive on his end but cheerful on hers as she absently commented in a happy tone. He liked it, clinging to the sound as though it was his only hope of survival, and blocking out the obsessive voice of his elder sister as she practically screamed at them; barely louder than a whisper.

 

And as for C… The date was soon. And a murder attempt had already been made, with Charlotte fighting him for hold over his mind so the waking nightmare didn’t throw him out the window. She promised he’d survive, but it was doubtful with all the cars roaming the street and the large drop, especially with no one to wake up to. Maybe his life would be better if he wasn’t with his mother, but he was here for _her,_ not for himself; he would wait until she had lived her fill.

 

But if that was true, why was he walking up those stairs, the confident strides of Charlotte taking over for him like a parent’s guiding hand when he froze at the base. Her arms swung from side to side, eyes set in seriousness almost ruined by her smile, ringed by drool from the earlier dry heaving that had come off yellowish on their white jacket (she’d picked the outfit for today but didn’t seem to mind adhering a bit to his love of black).

 

C was...small, with long hair kept up a stringy tail, tied with a broken rubber band. He didn’t look too different from his icon, if not more tired, and just like Charles, covered in bruises and drying blood.

 

“Are you disappointed that I look like this?” He’d asked after they’d sat beside each other on the railway and shared a short greeting, Charlotte gave him the floor after a bit of arguing as his sister lurked in the background, hands a barely present feeling on his shoulders (she was afraid he’d jump too).

 

“You look the same, just more tired and with a sadder smile…” He managed to say, musing on the sudden sort of confidence to say all that, he felt Charlotte smile, “You’re the one meant to be disappointed in me if you were hoping for the girl of your dreams…” Though...he wasn’t quite wrong now, was he…?

 

“Names and bodies don’t matter,” he replied, glancing at his friend, “You’re here in front of me, that’s relieving...along with that fact that we’re rather alike; pessimistic.”

 

Charlotte certainly wasn’t, but if he knew Scarlett Eyler…

 

“Well...even if they don’t… What’s your name? Like...your real one?”

 

He seems to like the idle smalltalky feel of the question, chuckling a little at the after thought, “Vincent, and I’ll assume you’re not Charlotte?”

 

She simmered inside him, itching to get out, he shoved her back and snapped out of the daze, ignoring her light protests that quickly quieted after deciding it was _his_ moment, “Charles, though I can’t say I like it much…” He admitted, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture Charlotte had introduced him to.

 

_“Such a good girl…”_

 

“For what it’s worth, it’s nice to meet you,” he began, shooting him an innocent, odd sort of wink halfway through like he knew something Charles didn’t, _“Charlie.”_

 

He blushed, having not expected it from someone like Vincent, and gave Charlotte a little nudge that portrayed his expression of victory, “Likewise… I’m...glad I got to meet you. Face to face and all…”

 

“It’s a shame,” his gaze meets mine in a sidelong glance, “Isn’t it?”

 

He’s not sure what Vincent wants to hear, he’s tried to be honest but...will it help in this case? Or maybe he just wished he knew… “Why… Is it time?”

 

He looks down, lost in thought for a long time, feeling like minute after minute as the sun made its way across the sky, “I… I’m not made for this place, that is something I’m sure of.”

 

“So you want to make your own? Just like what you write?” Charlotte nudged him, whispering her thoughts, Scarlett’s sulking filling the background, “Or...is it about making a world all your own?”

 

“I am unsure if I would make a good god,” he decides, “But the idea of a better world...I want to reach for it, even if I fall.”

 

“Speaking of falling…” Scarlett interrupted, he doesn’t remember when she became more like Charlotte, more...inside his head than present before him. He supposed she couldn’t remain apart from his mind forever…

 

Still, it sounded cliche, just like his fanfictions of the great C’s works, oddly out of character for the real mastermind, “I feel the same, I guess… I suppose living for someone else would do that to you.” The girls began to squabble, creating a stern setting of impatient words pulled taunt and ready to break. It becomes unbearably tense, and he takes off his glove, quickly averting his eyes from the imperfections marring it, grabbing at Vincent’s with a childish sort of insistence.

 

The same red-haired demon is still yelling, growing louder and louder as he begins to blink away tears. Charlotte makes another attempt to push him, but he’s not the one allowed to make this decision. He doesn’t know Vincent… He can’t _save_ Vincent.

 

He smiles at him-

 

_God, he can’t watch this-_

 

And promises to meet him again-

 

_Please, you don’t have to do this-_

 

And silence drowns out the world-

 

_There’s nothing after this, don’t you know that-?!_

 

And Vincent...lets go.

 

Adrenaline surges in his veins as she puts them down and scrambles to grasp it once more, straining and feeling metal dig into their gut as she struggles to keep them there.

 

“I’m sorry,” she’s crying- _They’re_ crying, clinging with all their might, Vincent looks up at them, visibly shaken and eyes full of fear, “I wasn’t...supposed to ruin...the big moment-” She stops to pant heavily, “but… I never got to meet you…”

 

She’s stronger than him, he isn’t sure why, but they’re over the railings after that, in that same awkward bubble of panic and silence as they _just_ breathe, and marvel at the fact that they still can.

 

“You…” Vincent tries, unable to call up the words, “...I’m sorry…”

 

“Me too,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed, “I just...I had to protect my host.” Charlotte finishes, like it’s such a normal thing to be saying, “I’m Charlotte, Charlotte Eyler, I guess I’m like...a personality- er, alter? An alter.”

 

He seemed confused, but didn’t seem to like the idea of a long talk about whatever this meant, “Nice to meet you…?”

 

“Best me and not Scarlett Eyler, I don’t think he wants you two to meet.”

 

Vincent is still panting, but beginning to calm, sweat dripping down his brow just like his friend’s as they mess with their hands, picking at scabs, “...why?”

 

“Even if he likes me, this is still weird, isn’t it?” She continues when he nods, “Well she’s not so...likeable? Not like a stain on a sweater-” she pauses to hold up her yellowed sleeve, “But more like… Uh… Cuts! On your hands where they stinge and scab and _eugh…!_ Like, they could get infected, and or like kill you, so they’re manageable but...kinda not great? Right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Right!” She repeated, “Basically… Um… Basically…” Charlotte stopped in a gradual manner, going silent, eyelids fluttering as she seemed to lose focus and stare into space.

 

He watched as they seemed to jolt, peering down at their hands and looking back at Vincent in a bit of a panic, “Sorry…! I...sorry! I didn’t mean to let her-! I- I didn’t mean to…”

 

“Charles-”

 

“And she just sort of did her own thing-”

 

 _“Charlie…!”_ He insisted, bringing his rant to an end, “Are you okay?”

 

“Are _you?”_

 

He stared at him like Scarlett did when he was being stupid before softening a bit, “I’m asking _you.”_

 

“I… I don’t know…” He admitted, hands scrubbing at his face, “I just...didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, that was your decision to make, I just…I don’t want to be here. I _want_ you to live. Even in this garbage world…” Charles sighed, deep yet shallow before meeting Vincent’s eyes for just the shortest split-second, “Especially if I can’t follow just yet…”

 

“You...said you were living for someone else?”

 

“Pretty sad, huh? I can’t even remember my mother’s face…”

 

“Well…” Vincent began, awkwardly rubbing his arm and seemingly at a loss for what he _could_ say to even begin to make the atmosphere warm again, “You know mine, now…”

 

It was the right thing to say, and he feels a certain warmth in his chest that makes a little smile on his face, and a real one to his friend’s. Charlotte gives him a playful nudge, and Scarlett has gone silent, not dormant, but just watching.

 

“Let’s get off this damn roof.”

 

Vincent grabs his hand, leading him to the stairs, “The slow way, right, Charlie?”

 

His face flushes again and he can feel the amusement from everyone around him, “And knock it off with that!”

 

He chuckles in response, rushing down the stairs as Charles lagged behind, letting him win their ‘race’ of sorts, “Maybe when you write your _own_ story!”

 

They meet at the bottom, huffing and puffing as Vincent leaned heavily against the rail and seemed to have regrets as he looked pale and sickly, Charles, feeling a bit more confident as he was prodded by Charlotte, sent him a tired but happy look, “I prefer yours.”

 

They left the old world that day, walking out all on their own to a new one, nearly identical, yet merged into more.

 

It was a happy ending.


End file.
